Porcelain
by Unjax
Summary: One missed call, one mistake, one night, one apology. M for mature content
1. Chapter 1: One cigarette

The day had ended at the same time as her life. No one had known. Baths had been a regular habit of hers the past few years. Company, of course, would have been undignified, and was not permissible. With the customary two bottles of wine, it was usually hours before she re-emerged, or, on the rarest of occasions, collected by her eternally dutiful servants.

As it was only one bottle was required to supply the piece of glass that slid through her thighs. Much simpler to go through the legs than the wrists, where the first was simple, and the second often failed. Death would still have come quickly, however, much more slowly than with two severed arteries.

Femoral arteries held more blood anyhow.

Winter wondered how she must have felt, all alone, the water turning lukewarm as her hands shook… How the warmth would come back as crimson flooded the tub, before everything started to get cold. Before her skin went from warm to chilled, her skin paling until it was the same as the porcelain tub. The metallic smell in the air fading as everything did, as everything slowly became quiet, slowly became muted, slowly became dull.

And it was cold.

They had found streaks on the walls. Part of Winter wondered if it was her trying to escape the cold, trying to break free, trying to get out… But she had to kill that voice inside her. Because if it was so, then she had been there with no one to pull her out. Then I wasn't there…

More than likely, it was arterial spray. Winter had seen her fair share of it. Arteries were under pressure. The same as poking a hole in a hose...

Apparently the man who had found her had noted that along with the wine, there was the smell of coffee. Alcohol to dilate the veins, countering the vasoconstriction from the coffee, caffeine to pump the heart faster. Heart rate and blood pressure up.

Winter took a long drag of the cigarette, fighting the trembling that started somewhere deep in her stomach and shook her, bone to skin. Nicotine to calm the breathing…

"Fuck," Winter gasped, squeezing her eyes shut, breathing out. Relax. It didn't work. So she took another drag, closed her eyes, breathed out. It was a well rehearsed ritual. It had cleared the tears brought to her by fists, words, and fears. It kept frustration and rage at bay while she trained. The deaths of partners, friends, even family once or twice before.

Now, after so long, it failed her.

A tear slid down her cheek. Partway down, it froze to her face. The ice stung, almost as much as the wind, not nearly as much as the needle that felt as if it had been buried in her chest for days.

"Got an extra?" A gruff voice, one that always had a tendency to turn up when bad things happened.

"What are you doing here?" She was glad for the distraction. Feeling angry felt better than being… Whatever the fuck it was she was feeling.

"Ruby and Yang are getting to the hotel tonight… With Tai in the hospital, well, I figured they could use someone about. Do the dishes, braid their hair, y'know."

"You know how to braid hair?" Winter lifted an eyebrow.

"French braid, fishtail… I am one of two people in the world allowed to touch the hair of Yang Xiao Long I'll have you know." He cracked her a crooked smile, and she couldn't help but chuckle. She pulled out the fresh pack of cigarettes she had bought before getting on the airship out, and flicked it so one stuck out. It was disturbing how quickly the old habit came back.

Qrow took it without thanks, but she had expected none. She knew better by now.

"Your folks coming?" He asked as he pulled a lighter from his pocket, red body, silver cap, rose on the side, and popped it open with a cursory flick. He ground the wheel against the flint, and sparks shot, but no flame caught. He grunted, began to pull on the cigarette so it'd light faster, and struck the flint again. A third time. He paused then and looked up at Winter. Then he plucked the cigarette from his mouth and sighed. "Just one of those days, huh?"

"One of those days," She agreed, muttering half to herself as she stared out through the thick, white blizzard. "Mother's drunk. Father doesn't care. Who's left to come?" Winter pulled one last time on the cigarette, snarling as she burned her upper lip, and let the filter drop. The snow would put it out.

The world screamed through the winds for a moment.

Qrow put a hand on her shoulder. Winter waited a moment, tried to tell herself she didn't need it, leaned into it, then pulled out another roll of tobacco. She flicked her lighter, again and again, but the wind kept knocking the flame out. A wave of fury hit her, just for a moment, not long enough her to shriek or yell or lose all composure, just enough to squeeze the lighter too hard, and snap it in her palm.

"Fuck," She bit her lip, focusing on the new pain as she pulled slivers of plastic from under her skin. The butane spattered her palm and a noxious smell filled her nose. He held up his lighter one last time, striking it, and it caught. He held it up for her, shielding it from the wind. Desperately, she stuck the filter in her lips and pulled. She felt the smoke in her mouth, felt the heated air singe her tongue, the ashy taste filling her mouth, coating her throat and lungs, and she drank it all in blissfully. "Thanks,"

He didn't say anything, just raised his own cigarette, lit it, and started puffing. "These things'll kill you, you know."

"Can't come soon enough," She murmured, too low for him to hear.

She caught a blur of movement, a stark gold through the haze of white.

"That him?" She asked, knowing he'd have already seen it. His eyes had always been better than hers. He didn't answer, just nodded.

She took one last drag, pulled the cigarette out of her mouth, and flicked the half finished stick into the snow. She made her way towards the entrance, intercepting the man.

"Jaune Arc?" She asked, and he turned to her. For a moment he looked excited, then confused. She knew what he was seeing, traces of the other woman he was hoping to find. The same eyes. The same face. The same posture.

"Yeah?" His eyes were glassy, and once he realized who she was, they slid off her face and around him as if he were dizzy.

"You… You found her right?"

He nodded numbly.

"What… happened?" She closed her eyes, trying to compose herself. But she felt so lost. "How did this happen..."

He looked at her, his eyes darting over her face, looking for something she couldn't place.

"Let me get a drink, then I'll answer any question you have."

 _A/n_

 _New story. Three or four chapters. I've actually laid this one out, so help me god I'm going to get it done._


	2. Chapter 2: One Missed Call

He could feel it, hot and heavy against his thigh, but he left it there, ignored it, did his best to forget it. Of course, it made it the only thing he could think about.

The crystal refracted the light, the small rainbow skittering across the rough oak of the bar. The water of the ice melted and mixed with the amber scotch, eddying about like wisps. He snarled at it, and slammed the drink back into his throat and swallowed harshly. "Just past two AM." He answered after sucking in a cool breath to chase the heat of the drink.

Winter was quiet, she was always quiet between questions. Each moment felt like it was stretching out, each pulse hammering a moment after it should have. His breath stuttered, his hands shook.

He held two fingers up at the barkeep. A moment later their glasses were refilled, the first drink hit, and things began to still. Time, began to still. "Was she…"

"She was already dead by the time I got there. Nothing I could have done." He wished he could believe himself. He wondered if she did. He wondered if she blamed him. She should. Maybe if he had gotten there a few minutes earlier, if only he had…

"I'm sorry," She whispered, he barked out a laugh.

"What the fuck for?" _This is my fault._

"I've seen my share of death, any Specialist has… "

"You going to tell me it gets easier?"

"I wouldn't lie to you. It's like getting hit in the stomach over and over with a hammer every time."

"Been there before… It was better than this." Jaune muttered under his breath.

"I'd take waterboarding training over this any day." Winter agreed, before looking up from her drink and over at him with those eyes. Those glacial blue eyes, just like hers. "But you get used to it. The pain."

"You're talking like I haven't been through this before."

"Have you?" Even behind the haze of nicotine and boos, her eyes were sharp. Clear. Just like Weiss' always were. "Friends are the hardest to watch go."

"Yeah… Friends." It was the ghost of a memory long since forgotten, of pale skin and crimson lips, of soft touches and the hard crashing of lips.

He squeezed his eyes shut, fought down the catch in his throat, failed, and burned it in the fiery liquid he so desperately sought. Maybe he couldn't beat it, maybe he could drown it out.

"She… spoke of you sometimes. You two were close, after Beacon, weren't you? Even as the others went their own ways."

"Pyrrha and I live in Vale, Weiss laid her head to rest each night in Atlas. I guess we were as close as two people half a world away could be."

"But you always came to see her, didn't you? When you were in town?"

He picked the glass up, swirled the ice around. Raised his hand for another. "Not always," The admission made him want to rip himself apart. "I hadn't seen her for… too long."

He could smell the tobacco on her breath, the hint of it underneath volatile alcohol that stained her lips. Alcohol to numb the pain. "Oh," And she drank. "She never mentioned… She talked about you as if you still kept in touch. I remember she told me once about a night you two went to the CCT, after hours, when no one else was around. Just sat and watched the stars…"

 _The wind gusted strongly, so high above the ground, but they were shielded from the rest of the world, a thousand feet above it all. A few thick blankets all that stood between their skin and the stars._

"It was a good night," He smiled, he couldn't help it, and then it vanished, and there was nothing but the taste of ash in his mouth.

 _I'm sorry, he whispered, wanting to hold her, wanting to tell her just how sorry he was, wanting her to know that if he could go back, not do, never do it, he would in a heartbeat. Put his touch was poison, he hurt anyone near him. He'd give anything to go back. But how… How..._

So he had to watch her body heave and wrack as she sobbed…

"I'm glad you were still friends, that at least she had someone." Winter was growing quiet. Maybe it was the booze, maybe she was tired, maybe the buzz was wearing off. Jaune didn't answer. He couldn't. After a while, she stood. "I'll see you in the morning, rest tonight, Jaune Arc. It's an open casket."

 _Ice white face, blank eyes staring at him without seeing, scarlet dripping down and mixing and spreading through the water splashed all over-_

Her heels clacked as she walked away. Jaune couldn't watch her go, it was too familiar. He stared down at his glass instead, trying to ignore the weight in his pocket, the slight pressure and tug at it.

"Another one, sir?" The bartender asked.

Jaune could feel his head already starting to spin, he could feel his thoughts slowing, he could feel his mind degenerating as the alcohol drowned it out. The slight tingle in his fingers fading to a fat, clumsy numbness. It couldn't spread fast enough. "Keep 'em coming." He decided.

It was six drinks and an hour later when he finally worked up the courage to pull the scroll out and check the screen. He hadn't unlocked it in days. Two days. And there it was, a banner. Unlike most, there was no picture of who had tried to get in touch with him. It was just a grey icon, same as it had been for… too long. The was just a name and a description.

One missed call.

Two days ago.

From Weiss Schnee.

 _a/n:_

 _Here are the chapter titles:_

 _One missed call_

 _One apology_

 _One mistake_

 _One goodbye_

 _This is how this happened_

 _Gonna try and finish it up within a week. Seems like it won't be too popular, but that's to be expected as I'm getting back into it. Once this story is done, I'll get working on Letters and First Date again. Got a few chapters mostly done, but I want to make sure that i've got my writing legs back before setting , we're going to be doing time skips in this one because keeping things short._

 _Please, tear me to shreds. I need to get at least halfway gud again._

 _Cheers,_

 _Unjax_


	3. Chapter 3: One Mistake

"And everything went quiet.

"There I was, stalking through this shadowy house, waiting for it to start flinging dishes, start throwing brooms and buckets, but nothing came. Not for a moment.

"Then everything came. I mean _everything_. Not just the dishes, the sink too! It was bringing the house down. Dodging a toilet — which was full by the way because _someone forget to flush_ , I ran into the kitchen. It threw the stove at me, and then, my genius took over."

"Yeah, you don't have that."

"HEY! Anyways, it was a gas stove. And I, had a trusty lighter."

"Wait…"

"Hey, no interrupting."

"Are you talking about the lighter I gave you two years ago when we—"

"I never would have touched an illicit substance."

"Was it the lighter I gave you?"

"... It was a very trusty lighter."

"You made a house bomb with my lighter?"

"And now you're spoiling the ending."

"Sorry, my outrage got the best of me. So you made a bomb and killed the ghost?"

Jaune looked around, breaking eye contact for the first time since the story had began. "... Totally."

"Jaune?"

"That's my name."

"What aren't you saying?"

"... It didn't die in the fire. I burned it with fire and it didn't die.

"It piggie-backed on me. Got into my clothes… and then it started hitting me. With my own hood!"

Weiss looked at him dubiously. "You got beat up by a sweatshirt?"

"Okay I know, but do you ever wake up after sleeping in your sweats and get all tangled in the bedsheets and then you trip all over?"

"I think that's just you. Also, you don't get any more presents."

"So what was dinner tonight?" He grinned. She gave him a smoky look.

"Pity,"

He glowered mockingly.

She bit her lip.

Light glinted against a golden band, and she turned away. The only thing he hadn't lost, it seemed.

"What happened next?"

"Well… How do you put a sword through a Grimm who's wearing your dress to the prom?"

"Don't say it,"

"Like any prom girl, you lose the dress."

"Pig."

 _Pressing together, his skin hot against hers, sliding against one another._

"Like you're one to talk." He said it with a smirk, then looked down. Neither of them would say it. They hadn't in years.

 _His lips against hers. Three words on them. Three words she couldn't hear._

 _So she crashed against him, begging for him to say them but never giving him the chance. A warmth deep inside her was growing and—_

She raised her glass to her lips, wetting them with crimson wine. But she trembled, ever so slightly. It slipped.

 _A trail of red ran down her cheek, still. Dried. He wished he could wipe it away, just as he had last time._

She could feel his palm on her cheek, feel it brush away the spilled wine, and it lingered, for a fraction of a second. But she could feel cold metal on it, and a twisting in her gut. Not painful, rather like butterflies.

"What happened next?"

"I ripped my armour off and stabbed it. Then it pulled my hood over my eyes so I started stripping and threw it all into the house."

She laughed, like a bell, her bright blue eyes glimmering in the dim light of the moon. "I swear," He said with a chuckle. "The ghast was possessing my armor and clothes… So I had to take them off."

"You fought a Grimm naked… in front of a whole village?" Her voice was bubbling happily. Jaune nodded, letting his chuckles grow a bit.

"Beat up by my own clothes… Anywhere but Atlas, I'd have been fine! But it's fuckin _cold_ here. Don't know how you stand it." Truth be told, she didn't know either. The memory of warmth faded, and she was reminded of just how cold Atlas could be.

"What's wrong?"

For a moment, she remained like that. Frozen somewhere, as if the she were prey being exposed.

Then, she slid. It was a shift, like closing a window as the winds of winter as they began to waft into Atlas. She just… Closed.

"Nothing," She said, her plastic smile plastered on a porcelain face. He frowned.

"Don't Weiss… Don't shut down like that. What's wrong?"

She looked at him, his eyes deep, like the ocean. His face warm, but concerned. His brow creased, and she wondered if it were wax. She wanted to reach up, touch him, see if any of it was actually there. She didn't want to know if he wasn't. So she didn't move, didn't speak. He did.

He stepped forward into her, so close she could feel his breath. She could smell him, a musky sort of pine. She could see his chest beneath the undone button of his dress shirt, creased as it was. The muscle was toned, thick, so far from what she had known so long ago. She wanted to believe it was the same man, but when the whole world spun and twirled around her like some twisted ballet…

"I'm here," And she could see he meant it.

She wanted to say it.

She couldn't.

She wouldn't.

So she slid her arm around him. He held her close. They stood like that for a long time, drinking in the night and each other. She could feel his heart and her own, beating together, breathing together, just like…

"Do you ever think about Beacon? Before we left?"

He stilled, and she knew she shouldn't have said anything. He pulled away, and she had to stop herself from holding on. _Just like all the others,_ the thought crept it's way into her brain before she could stop it.

"You left." When he looked at her it was with… Hurt. Not indifference. Not a blank stare. Not pulling away.

And why would he be hurt unless he-

"I'm…" What apology could she offer?

"I thought you were going to stay with me. But then you were gone."

"... I'm here," She echoed.

"Why did you go?"

"You know why."

"We were together for years, Weiss. There was so much time for you to say. You never did. Why?"

"... I was scared..."

"Of what? When did I ever leave you? When did I ever let you down? When was I ever not there for-"

"... Because I…"

Three words were all she had to say.

The wedding ring was burned into her mind.

She shouldn't say it.

She couldn't stop herself.

One mistake, that's all it took.


	4. Chapter 4: One Apology

One Apology:

She heard the telltale creak, the opening of a door that had but two keys. One set was tucked up on the shelf next to that very same door, the second in the pocket of the man who had walked through the door. A smile played upon her face, and she twisted the golden band on her finger, a small tick she had developed whenever he was gone.

"Jaune?" She called.

"The one and only!" A quick snap as the door shut behind him. She made her way to the sink and washed off her hands, the meal behind her forgotten. She didn't cook often — frankly he was much at it than she was, but whenever he returned from missions she did her best to make the effort. She was hardly a model house wife — killing monsters made for a unique lifestyle, but every once in a while she liked playing the role. He would probably purse his lips because she had put too much salt in the water whilst boiling it. He always ate the whole meal though. He wouldn't say a word of the mistakes she had made.

"How was Mystral?" She asked as she made her way to the front of their small apartment. She had money, plenty of it left over from her years of victories at tournaments and the advertisements she had done at that time. They had bought a large mansion initially, something spacious and roomy to accommodate friends, but it was foreign to him. Her as well. After spending four years in a dorm room with a Nora made for a sort of love for tight spaces. Her bed had been the only space which had been truly hers back then, and the vast empty spaces of the old house had seemed strange and foreign. Particularly when he went away, she found herself feeling lonesome. Every so often Yang or Ruby would come and visit, but the stays became less frequent over the years. So they had abandoned the idea, and come here. A small apartment. A kitchenette, a spare bedroom, a small living space with a tv, and their bedroom. It was all they needed. Perhaps it wasn't a home, but it was what they had. It was what they found comfortable.

"Pleasant! It's so warm down there." He came around the corner and caught her, lifting her off her feet and twirling her around, light as a feather. Her smile grew, she hugged him more tightly, he put her down.

"Is it ever really pleasant fighting Griffons?"

"Eh, they're not so bad. Kill the alpha. Show 'em who's boss. Can't help but smile as the sun shines, you know?" She laughed a little, letting it bubble out of her chest.

"I missed you." She put a hand on his cheek, the cool metal on her finger pressed against his warm skin. She leaned in and kissed him, his lips soft, the kiss tender and gentle.

"I missed you too." They stayed locked together, resting their foreheads together for a moment. A quick breath, the return to normalcy after the leave. A moment later his stomach growled. "Do I smell your famous pasta?"

"You do. I even used salt to boil the water."

"Pulling out the bells and whistles aren't you? … Nothing broke while I was gone did it?"

"Just my heart." She turned, pulled him with her. She felt light on her feet, her stomach fluttered. All these years later, he still did that to her. Each touch, each kiss, each moment in his arms made her heart skip a beat. Her stomach would turn over and over, especially now, knowing the surprise she had waiting for him.

"However shall you forgive me?" He broke away to grab a few plates. They were crystal — a wedding gift from Weiss, and one of the few items of luxury they had kept around.

"I have a few ideas." She let herself get sly for a moment, but such talk could wait. Sauce on the pasta, plates in hand, they made their way to the couch and sat. She tucked her knees under her, he grabbed the remote. "The X-ray and Vav movie came out while you were gone."

"And you wait till now to tell me?!" He feigned outrage. He snatched up the remote and flicked it on, looking for the rentals. It was only available to buy. He moped.

"Oh for- how much did you just earn on the mission Jaune? We can afford a rental." He looked somewhat like a puppy dog in his excitement. She giggled again and kissed him on the cheek as he flicked the movie on. They settled in and ate.

In all honesty, she thought that she had done a proper job with the dinner. There were no crunchy, crispy bits tonight. All was going well until she bit down on something and bitterness flooded her mouth. She stuck her tongue out, looking at the leaf on her tongue.

"Forgot to take the bay leaves out?" He asked, his own face scrunched up.

"I'm sorr-" He cut her off with a kiss. It was bitter in taste and sweet in sentiment.

"I don't care."

She snatched his hand. He squeezed hers.

"Come on," She stood, pulling him with her.

"We're halfway through the movie." He protested, resisting a bit. Faster than his eye could follow, she used the resistance to pull herself into him, straddling his thigh and pulling his plate away, setting it beside him.

Eyes lidded, she leaned in, slowly, letting her breath trail up his neck. She bit his ear, ghosted her lips along his jaw, found the sweet release of his lips and leaned in, slow at first, waiting for him. His lips started to move against hers, and she crashed against him. Her hands on his face, she pulled him into her, the ferocity of the kiss building until they pulled away gasping. She nudged his nose with hers, sliding backwards, off the couch, pulling him with her.

This time he came fast, faster than she had thought he would, arms wrapping around her, pulling her in by the small of the back. They met once more, fire building inside her as they crashed into the wall. His hands slid up her sides, slipping against the skin under her shirt. The touch was electric, her heart hammered in her chest. She pushed him towards the room, crashing from wall to wall.

He threw the door open, and the smell of roses filled her. He broke away for a moment, long enough to see the bed littered in flower petals. "Pyrrha…"

She grasped his belt leading him inside, not bothering to close the door behind him. She didn't know if he pushed her or if she fell, only aware of him, pressing against her as she desperately tugged away the strip of leather. Kisses burned hot on her neck, his hands warm on her sides. They tore away at each other until there was nothing but their skin, pressing against one another. She could feel him, growing against her, the fire inside her burning. He bit her collar bone and she gasped involuntarily. "Please," was all she could manage before the throws of passion consumed them.

* * *

His head pounded. It wasn't unfamiliar, it wasn't familiar. It was just painful. He groaned as he stood from the arm chair. A wave of nausea washed over him, the buzz of unintelligible voices droned at him from the television, the high pitched whine of electricity drilled into his head, encouraging the growing headache.

Not leaving the bar had been a good choice.

But he wasn't alone.

"Little hair of the dog kid?" Qrow Branwen was already sitting at a stool, his clothes as dirty as Jaune's. It seemed he wasn't the only one who wasn't sleeping.

Two glasses of amber were sitting in front of him, and he slid one to the stool next to him. Jaune took the queue and sat, gratefully sipping. The fiery brandy burned his throat, but he forced it all down in a single go. "Look at you go," Qrow's voice was gravelly. Nice and low, unlike that fucking television. Instead of answering, Jaune reached behind the unmanned bar and drew out one of the bottles. Tequila. Great.

He filled his cup to the brim. Qrow downed his own, and slid it over. Jaune obliged by filling it up. The older man raised his glass, and Jaune tapped it, the alcohol from their drinks sloshing out of the cups and splashing over the bar.

"To the breakfast of champions." Jaune murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Something I can cheers to. No such thing as a hangover if you stay drunk."

About halfway through the glass, the headache eased.

"Funeral starts in a few hours, you probably oughta clean yourself up at some point." Qrow noted with a sideways glance.

"Yeah, I will."

"It gets easier, by the way. Not that it helps now." Jaune sneered and took a big sip, ignoring the huntsman. _Blue eyes, strangely blank. Pale arms, cold, covered in warm water._

"I'm sure it does."

"You don't sound convinc-"

"Shut the fuck up." Jaune snapped. "How the fuck would you even-" He cut himself off.

They were silent for a moment. Jaune finished his glass, reached for the bottle. Qrow already had it. He poured some of the golden drink into Jaune's glass, filling it half empty.

"I ever tell you about a girl I used to know?"

Jaune didn't bother to answer. The old fool could drone on all he liked. Just like the voices on the television, he could block it out.

"Beautiful woman… Hell of a huntress. Hell of a mother."

"Just say what you have to say and fill my glass again." Jaune mocked, his lip curling despite his best efforts.

"She was a huntress… And human. We all go at some point."

"Can't come early enough."

Qrow didn't say anything for a while. Jaune savoured the silence.

"I serve a unique roll in the huntsman community, you know that kid? Good ol Oz sends me off to wherever people have given their last check in, when they miss their follow up. You know what that normally means, don't you? You know what happens to most of us. Occupational hazard I guess.

"Means I get to pick up the pieces, more often than not. Odd days I get lucky. Honest mistakes, scroll got damaged, they track the Grimm outside the range of the CCT… But more often than not, it's because they died.

"Finding the bodies isn't so bad. They look… Fake almost. Like a painting." _She stared at nothing, she saw nothing. His hand trembling, he closed her eyes, those brilliant eyes that used to shine with so much life…_

"But this time it was different. It's always different when you know them. And she wasn't dead yet.

"They had ripped her throat out… But she wasn't dying. Not yet. Wasn't the Grimm… She could handle that. But there was a hold in her back, and a gash across her throat. A few minutes earlier, maybe I could have done something…"

 _The water was warm, the blood not dried into darkness._

"But I wasn't. I was too late. So I watched her, my best friend, the brightest woman I'd ever met… I watched her try to gasp out a few words. She tried to say… something. I'll never know what. How long had she been there like that? How long had she been waiting for me… Hoping someone would come save her… Not a day goes by I don't think about Summer."

Jaune frowned he knew that name.

"Not a day goes by I don't see her face. The worst part? I can't even remember what she looked like any other time. All I remember is those few moments, as she died in my arms. Her head in my lap, words she couldn't say on her lips…"

Jaune took a long sip. It's fiery tongue licked at his throat as it slid down.

"That supposed to make me feel better?" Jaune couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice.

"I tortured myself for years. I just kept thinking if I had been a bit faster, if I had gotten there sooner… but you want to know the truth?" Qrow poured another round. "There wasn't shit I could've done to stop it. Things… happen. And there's not a damn thing you can do to stop it. Might take a while, but eventually it sinks in."

Qrow stood, wobbling slightly. "Strong stuff." He murmured. He slapped Jaune on the back. "I gotta go make sure the girls are up. Make sure that they're getting cleaned up for the funeral… You should take a shower."

And he walked a crooked path out of the bar.

Jaune poured another glass.

* * *

He knew this wasn't how it should feel.

He reached up, tucked a strand of scarlet hair behind her ear. The movement was a memory, one of a different night. The ring on his finger looked silver in the dim light cast by the moon, high above outside, leaking its ghostly light through the windows. A petal sat on her face, and he moved it away.

She was asleep now, had been for some time.

The soft whispers, the sweet nothings, they came so easily now, but they always left a bitter taste in his mouth. He could say them almost automatically, make her smile.

Lies.

That's what they were.

But he did love her, didn't he? They had spent so long together. He had said the words so many times. He thought he believed them.

Even now though, as he flattened her hair behind her ear, as he traced the delicate curve of her cheekbone, as he lay next to her, it was not her face he was thinking of. Hours ago, as he lost himself in her embrace, it wasn't her toned body he imagined himself pressing against. It wasn't her he saw in his mind's eye as he closed his eyes and let out heavy breaths.

It was the ghost of someone else he saw. A perfect face, with one scar.

He wondered if she knew. He wondered if either of them knew.

He didn't know when he had realized. Perhaps part of him had always known that something was different. That something wasn't right. That some part of him felt like it was missing.

But she loved him. He knew she did. He could see it in every look she gave him, in the pasta she tried to make, the way she held him when the plights of the job took him…

He saw it in everything she did for him, and found no solace in it.

Sighing, he rolled over. He wouldn't sleep tonight.

It wasn't the first time.

* * *

She watched the pasta in front of her, cold now, it's twin plate on the other side of the table.

Pyrrha checked her scroll again.

Nothing.

Nothing in hours.

He should have been home by now.

The pit in her stomach was growing, tearing her apart piece by piece, each thought another knife, but she couldn't let herself think it.

 _What if he's… gone._

It ripped into her mind, blowing through the veneer of peace she had worked up. The thought terrified her to the very core of her being, tore her heart out. Adrenaline crashed through her, and she breathed deep.

Just another mission. In Atlas, one amongst a dozen others. He was one of the strongest huntsmen in the world, she had trained him herself. He was talented, he was fast, no Grimm would have touched him.

 _How many huntsmen have died before him though?_

It felt like there was a demon inside her, it's icy claws digging through her organs.

No, he couldn't be-

A creak.

She didn't remember standing. She just remembered crashing into him, clutching him so close. "You're okay," She gasped, hanging onto him, clutching him tightly. "I was so scared…"

He didn't say anything.

And he stank of alcohol.

"Jaune?" She looked up at him, not taking her hands off him. She couldn't let go of him, not now, not when she was so worried he would be-

He took her hands, softly, gently, but forcefully removed them.

"I… I need to tell you something Pyrrha.

* * *

 _A/n_

 _Nope, Weiss didn't cheat._

 _Yes this story is confusing. These sorts of things do that. It's fragmented, it's fractured. It doesn't make sense. I switched this chapter with its predecessor because otherwise you would have known exactly what was happening, but I've sort of said it in each of the chapters. The hints are there, some of you saw it._

 _Next chapter is the second to last one._

 _I don't want to fucking write this anymore._

 _I don't even know if you want to read it._

 _Things are going to jump around a lot next chapter. This Is How This Happened will be the clearest chapter. It's going to be a stream of consciousness taking place in what I guess is the present._

 _Things tend not to make sense until the end._

 _I wanted to get it all done in one week. That turned into weekly updates. Honestly, this is harsh to write, might take a while for me to get the next one out._

 _For those reading, thanks for sticking with. I'm still finding my sea legs in writing again. Somehow, stuff like this is easier for me to write._

 _Unjax_


	5. Chapter 5: One Goodbye

"I love you," The words tumbled from her mouth as he held her close, her hair shimmering silver in the dark of midnight.

He stilled.

Why did she have to say it?

"I know," He whispered, he had always known. They both had.

He should let go. He couldn't bear to. Her arms wrapped him, their bodies entwined once more. How could he?

This is all he had wanted.

It felt so right.

"Just… tell me." Her voice trembled. "If you don't, I won't speak to you again. You can go and leave and never come back. I just… I need to know. Did you ever-" Her voice caught. "Do you..?"

She pulled back, still holding him, but far enough that she could look up. Her eyes were sharp, despite the wine, brilliant and glacial, despite the dark. Her scar shimmered, Her skin glittered.

 _No._

Something told him it's what he should say. His ring burned cold on his left hand. The thought of someone, far away now, whispered the word in his ear.

 _No._

But it would be a lie.

He had told so many since she had left. Every day, for years, he lied. He told himself that that whisper was true, that he didn't. That those moments together were gone, ghosts of the past.

But they weren't.

Still, she haunted his dreams. Still, her face was in each moment, tucked away, somewhere safe. Somewhere that would never leave him, burned into his very soul.

 _No_.

The whisper came again, the incessant lie. It is what he should say.

It is what he must say.

But she was there, in front of him. So close he could smell the sweet scent of her perfume, he could feel her arms around him, and he could lose himself in her eyes.

How could he ever say-

"Of course I do… You know I do."

And once the words were spoken, they could not be taken back.

And they were true.

All it took was one mistake.

She rose slowly, onto the tips of her toes. His eyes closed.

Tentatively, slowly they met, their lips barely brushing. Something surged inside him, made him want to dive into her, and he pulled her close. Softly, gently. She leaned into him, the kiss deepening, the sweet wine on her sweet lips, the beauty of her in his arms.

And then they were pushing against each other, her, digging into him, desperately clutching at his shirt, he pulling her closer than he thought two could be.

She tore at his shirt, buttons flying as he tugged it off and out of his belt. He slid his hand under her skirt, her skin feverish as his hand slid up her thigh, to her stomach, and it was gone.

And they lost themselves together, found at last.

* * *

It was a sea of black.

Everywhere he looked, they were dressed in it, covered in it, smothered in it.

He wanted to be sick.

His tie felt like it was joking him, squeezing the air from his body with every breath, as though he couldn't get enough. The headache was coming back. The droning of the minister continued on, each beat of the speech snapping into his head like nails.

He was stood at the back… He couldn't bring himself to take the seat next to Ruby and Yang. He couldn't bear to be near them.

The minister finished, and it was time.

Everyone stood, lining up to make their last goodbyes. Everyone but him.

He had seen her face once like that… still and cold and pale. He couldn't do it again.

"You should go, say goodbye." A voice crackled at his side. Qrow.

"I think I already have."

"If you don't… the only memory you'll will be of when you found her." He met red eyes, sharp, despite the smell on his breath.

 _Alcohol to numb the pain_.

Jaune turned away. "I don't think it will leave me anytime soon, either way." He growled.

"If not for you, do it for them." Qrow was looking at his nieces, as they somberly shuffled along with the other guests. "They deserve to know their friend had a proper farewell."

And who was Jaune to argue.

He was last in line. All he could hear was the slight clacking of their shoes as the shambled along, like prisoners in chains. One half step in front of the other, he followed in the footsteps of polished black shoes. His own shone, bright in the light of the church. And all around him was black.

Seconds, or maybe hours, passed, and the procession slowly moved along. Some were teary eyes, most were blank. Most would forget this had happened hours after they left. Most had never truly known Weiss Schnee.

For the most part, they were clients and subordinates. Checking an item off their daily list. _Make the appearance, save face, utterances of what a tradgedy it was, shuffle along, one half step at a time._

And so he did, wishing for their place. Wishing he could forget.

Then, they were gone. He was alone, the cathedral, swamped in black, was now empty. No others remained, it was just him.

… and her.

His feet heavy, he stepped onto the dais, next to the elevated coffin. It was slick and black and polished. It shone, like his shoes.

All but the end, propped open.

Therein, she lay. Her eyes closed, her face as white as her hair. He could hardly tell where one ended, and the other began.

Even now, stilled forever, she was beautiful.

He wanted to touch her skin, tell her it would be okay, ask her to stay with him.

She would not answer.

Never again.

"I'm sor-" He tried to whisper, but choked on the word. How could it ever be enough? For what he had done, for his part to play in this.

 _Her skin, hot on his own, pressed against him._

"I should have been there."

 _Her lips crashing against his, her sighs slipping through them._

"I'm so sorry Weiss."

 _Together, they lay, blissful._

"... Goodbye."


	6. Chapter 6: Stars Above, Stars Below

The winds howled, the night was black. The moon was dark, so was his heart.

He knew he should be wearing a coat, that he would surely freeze if he spent too much longer up here, on the tower, overlooking the mountains. They seemed so far away, fading behind layers of flakes of snow, too large to be real. But as one touched against his cheek, stung for a moment, and then melted into the tears streaming down his face, he knew they were there.

Everything looked so small, so far away.

Far below him, there were some lights. Mere pinpricks now. For all he knew he was trapped between two skies, falling, stars above, stars below.

 _His scroll chimed, and he growled at it. He hated coming to Atlas for missions. It was a place haunted with the past, one he wished to forget, but that he wouldn't, no matter how much he should._

 _But when he drew it out he knew the number. He had tried to erase it from his memories, but had never been able. Until the day he died, he would know it. He wondered how far away she was, the touch of a button and a lifetime ago. Were he to simply answer, he would know._

 _He did not trust himself to._

 _He had been forgiven once, he would not be forgiven again. Pyrrha had forgiven him, he thought. He had never offered himself the same courtesy._

 _And it rang and rang as he stared down at the grey icon._

 _Each tone gave way to an urge to answer, he wanted to, he wanted to let her know he was there for her._

 _He couldn't be._

 _Not anymore._

 _Setting it down on the table in front of him, he fiddled with the golden band, wrapped around his finger._

 _His scroll chimed once more. Not another call, just a message._

 _And on the display, were two words. Words which would burn into his head forever._

" _Goodbye, Jaune,"_

He should have answered. Why didn't he answer?

He wanted to shout at the sky, demand an answer.

He knew there was no reason for this.

" _She's… gone." His voice was a hollow echo._

" _Who is?" Pyrrha seemed happy as ever, perhaps a bit concerned._

" _I… Weiss…" He murmured the name. It didn't feel real. None of it felt real._

" _You… were with her?"_

 _And he froze._

 _No, he hadn't been, he wasn't-_

" _You were with her… again." Her voice was as hollow as his had been._

 _But he…_

" _I… need to go." She said. "Don't… don't call me." He could feel her voice crack from across the seas._

 _And so it goes._

His knuckles were white as he gripped the railing taughtly.

He shut his eyes against the pain, but could not flush it out.

Arms would have shook, were they not sealed to the railing. The wind whipped around him, the sky pressed against him, black.

Inviting.

 _His feet were heavy. He didn't know why he was here. They had said goodbye a long time ago._

 _But… then why now?_

 _She would have known. That he was there. Here, in Atlas._

 _So then… why?_

 _When he knocked on the door, it creaked inwards, and his heart sank._

 _The halls were dark, vacant, devoid of anything but a snowflake which crept in behind him. Fluttered through the air. Landed on the ground._

 _Then it was gone, as if it never had been._

 _Slowly, he walked through the hall. He called her name, softly at first, but with no reply, it grew louder. She wasn't in the study, nor the living room, nor the kitchen._

 _His feet found the stairs as they loomed over him, narrow and pressing in on all sides. Each step sucked his heart into his throat, but he kept moving._

 _At the top of the stairs, he heard it first._

It washed over him, intense, as if a thousand knives were gouging him from the inside. He gripped the bar tighter. He growled. He squeezed his eyes tight against it. His knees buckles, and but his grip never loosened. He trembled there, like a man on a crucifix.

 _Drip. Drip._

 _Small splashes of water against the ground._

 _The door to her room was open, and he moved into it, something inside him screaming to get out. The same part that frantically tore at him when he was in danger._

 _But nothing here would hurt him._

 _The crystal door of the bathroom was ajar, the only light in the house within, scattering dim colours across the ground as he approached. It was quiet._

 _Just inside, in the small strip of floor he could see, lay a scroll, screen cracked._

 _It smelled of coffee and alcohol._

He shouldn't be scared. Nothing here would hurt him.

His mouth tasted of coffee and alcohol.

 _Drip. Drip._

 _He pushed it open, and his heart stopped._

 _For a moment, he was frozen in horror. His eyes wouldn't believe what was in front of him. What he saw. It couldn't be real. No…_

 _In a tomb of porcelain she lay, the water around her a deep scarlet. Some of it had splashed onto the walls, and some was leaking over the side of the basin._

And he could see her, so clearly, but not as she had been, only as she was, two nights ago.

He thought about her laugh, the ones that he could eek out of her even when she was in the foulest of moods.

He thought of her smile, that was more perfect for her scar, not less.

He thought of her lips, the last time they had touched, trembling, scared, together and alone all at once.

He wished he could go back, and tell her he would never leave.

That they could be together.

Maybe they would be again.

 _Drip. Drip._

 _Half her hair was rosen, the other stark white. Her eyes were open, staring at some space on the wall. She was still. So still._

 _The spell broke and he rushed forward._

" _Weiss?" The words were frantic, panicked._

 _He rushed to her side, pulled her face into his hands._

 _She was cold._

 _Impossibly cold._

" _Weiss?" The name came in a quick gasp._

 _He couldn't breathe._

 _He turned her eyes towards him. "I'm here Weiss, I'm here…"_

 _But there was no answer._

 _She looked at him, her eyes vacant. She saw nothing._

 _He pressed his fingers to her neck._

 _Felt nothing._

 _His scroll was out and he was calling an ambulance before he knew what was happening. He barked out the directions._

" _Weiss?" It was hardly a whisper._

 _A streak of crimson trickled from her mouth. His fingers trembling, he brushed it away._

" _I'm here," He croaked._

" _I'm here."_

 _He pulled her up, out of the porcelain casket, and he saw them._

 _Two long, deep grooves across her thighs. Her pale, icy skin covered in scarlet droplets as he pulled her out._

 _But she did not shiver._

" _I'm here,"_

 _He cradled her against him._

" _... I'm here."_

 _But she was not._

"I'm here, Weiss." He whispered.

There was no answer.

And in that moment, he felt something calm. Something peaceful.

He wondered if that's how she had felt, glass in hand, breathing deep. Gasping for breaths that didn't want to come.

And then everything… stilled.

He looked up. He was shaking from head to toe. But he felt at peace. One moment. And it would be over, the pain would be gone.

"I'm here, I'll be there soon." None could hear him.

The last breath was steady. He felt cold consume him. His arms relaxed.

He let go.

And tumbled towards the stars above.

Towards the stars below.

So it goes.

* * *

 _A/n:_

 _I was going to make a chronological recap in this chapter._

 _I didn't think it would be suiting._

 _Sorry for this one. Figured I should finish what I started._

 _-Unjax_


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